The mud felt different under my boots.
Not because the fields had changed—but because I had.
A week ago, walking between the rows of rice stalks had been unfamiliar and awkward. Now it felt routine. Almost calming. Even the soreness in my body was manageable, fading from agony into a dull reminder that I was still healing.
I drove the blunt end of the hoe into the earth and exhaled. A warm breeze rustled the paddies around me, carrying the scent of wet soil and the promise of rain.
Wei Lin stood a few rows down, sleeves rolled up, his straw hat tilted back as he poured a small sack of grain into a woven container.
He looked up when he noticed me watching. "Still standing, I see."
"Mostly," I muttered, shifting my weight. "Turns out not dying comes with its own complications."
He chuckled and walked over, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his belt. From his sleeve, he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth and held it out to me.
"Here," he said. "Your share. For the beast. The claws sold well. Hide too."
I looked at the bundle, then at him. "Keep it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." I nodded toward the house. "Put it toward medicine. Make sure your ma gets better. I have no use for it."
He was quiet for a moment, then tucked the cloth back into his sleeve and gave me a crooked smile. "You're going to make it really hard for me to act humble if you keep saying things like that."
I snorted. "Guess you'll have to find a new personality."
He gave a mock sigh. "Tragic."
We worked in silence for a while. The sun was high, but not harsh, and the wind off the paddies kept things from turning sticky. I lost myself in the rhythm of it—hoe, pull, clear, step—until Wei Lin broke the quiet again.
"Next time you go into the forest," he said casually, "I want to come with you."
I glanced over at him. "What makes you think I'll go again?"
He met my eyes, serious now. "I saw it in your face. The day you came back bleeding half to death. You looked like someone who'd already made up his mind."
I didn't say anything at first.
Because he was right.
"That money for the beast was worth more than a week's worth of grain. If I can help you in anyway, I will."
I nodded at that. "Understood."
A few days later, we made the trip into town.
Wei Lin walked with a steadier pace than usual. He didn't limp as much when he was focused. The coins from the beast sat snug in a pouch on his belt, and he'd already made a list in his head of what needed buying before we even left the farm.
"Medicine first," he said as we crossed the wooden footbridge leading into the village. "If I don't show up to Madam Shen with coin, she'll think I'm avoiding my debts."
"You were," I said.
He grinned. "Which is why I need to correct the record before she curses me with bad crops."
The village was as I remembered—quiet and small. Kids darted through alleyways, their laughter trailing behind them like wind chimes, while traders called out prices for dried herbs and salted fish. It all felt far removed from city life I was used to, with their billboards and flashing lights.
We stopped at the herbalist first. Wei Lin spoke with the old woman while I leaned against the post outside, still a bit stiff but on my feet. He didn't haggle. Just passed her the pouch, took the bundle she handed back, and bowed low with both hands.
Next came something less routine.
The blacksmith's stall was more a lean-to than a shop, with racks of tools and chipped weapons hung from nails. A forge glowed low in the back, barely tended.
Wei Lin ran his hand along the nearest blade. "I was thinking," he said without looking at me, "we could both use something better than farm tools."
I raised an eyebrow. "Do we have enough coin?"
He gave a short laugh. "Not really. But I think it will be a good investment."
After looking through the tools and with the help of the smith— a large middle age man with a greying beard and callused hands that spoke of years worth of labour, we both settled on sabres. Simple ones. Straight-edged, a little rust around the hilt but balanced well enough.
As we walked back through the market with the wrapped blades attached to our sides, Wei Lin fell quiet.
Then he said, "I want to grow stronger too."
I glanced at him.
He didn't elaborate right away. Just kept his eyes on the road ahead, watching the wind roll over the paddies outside the village.
"It's not just for Ma," he added. "Though she's the biggest reason. It's just… this world doesn't wait for us to be ready. I'm tired of being the one hoping someone else shows up when things go wrong. I saw your reaction to that cultivator. I used to be like that too, when I was younger. I want.. no I need to get back to being the person I once was."
I nodded slowly and really looked at Wei Lin. When I first met him, I didn't really think much but now, looking at him, I could see the hard edge he had. Tending to the farm while looking after his mother. I could respect that. And if he wanted strength, I would try my best to help. It seemed we had a similar goal.
"I get that."
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Figured you would."
The days passed quickly after that.
We worked the fields. Trained with the blades in the evenings, I showed Wei Lin everything I knew, limited as it was, I did have to compete the hunters course and part of that was being competent with a weapon. My was the dagger but a sabre was only slightly larger and a lot of my knowledge transferred. I healed, little by little. By the end of the week, the limp in my stride had faded, and the fire in my ribs had cooled into something manageable.
That's when we packed our things and headed out—two blades, a few strips of dried meat, and the quiet understanding that this time, neither of us was going alone.
The river rushed beside us, loud and cold, carving its way through the valley like it had been doing that for a thousand years.
It looked familiar.
I didn't say it out loud, but I was pretty sure this was the same stretch of water I'd first stumbled along when I woke up in this world, more confused than I'd ever been in my life. Back then, I hadn't noticed the shape of the trees, or the slope of the banks, or the way the mist clung to the surface like it didn't want to let go.
Now, I noticed everything.
Wei Lin walked a few paces ahead, blade strapped to his side, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He moved with purpose, the way someone does when they know the land and the signs it leaves behind. Occasionally he stopped to crouch near the bank or examine a line of crushed grass with narrowed eyes.
Apparently, he knew where the beasts liked to roam.
"The ridge," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "That one I told you about—where the wind moves funny. It's up ahead, just upriver."
I nodded, keeping pace.
We followed the water for another half hour before the trees began to thin. The ground sloped harder, steeper, until we emerged at the edge of the world.
A sheer cliff stretched out before us, the drop so sudden and clean it felt like the earth had been sliced in half. Below, the river wound like a silver thread through a deep-cut gorge. Forests rolled out in every direction endlessly. Mist curled along the treetops far below, and mountains stood like silent guardians on the horizon.
I stepped closer, just enough to feel the pull of the drop in my gut. The wind really did shift here. It tugged at my clothes, whispering along the edge of the cliff.
Wei Lin stood beside me, quiet for once.
It wasn't awe in his expression. More like respect.
"This place," he said, voice soft, "is amazing isn't it. Ma used to say, all this used to be flat. Until the Great War, when a cultivator sliced the earth and remade it."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I just looked out across the mist and trees and mountains and thought, This world is so much bigger than I thought.
A branch cracked somewhere behind us—sharp and deliberate. I pulled my gaze away from the view.
I shifted my stance, eyes scanning the brush.
Nothing moved.
Then I heard it.
A low growl.
It came from the slope behind us, where the ridge curved upward and the mist thickened. Something stepped out of the trees. Heavy. Four-legged. But wrong in a way I couldn't place at first.
The creature was the size of a large boar, but covered in dark, thorny bristles that jutted out from its back like a crown. Its face was narrow, almost skeletal, with two small tusks curling forward from its jaw and milky eyes that flicked between the two of us. Every breath it took came out in sharp, wheezing huffs.
"What the hell is that?" I muttered.
Wei Lin answered without looking away. "Hedgebeast. Locals call them needlebacks."
"Charming."
It pawed at the dirt, then lunged.
Wei Lin moved to meet it. His sabre came free in a smooth arc—but the beast was quicker. His first swing missed, grazing the creature's flank as it barreled past. I stepped in, slashing low. The blade caught its shoulder, but not deep enough.
The bristles snapped upright, rattling like dry reeds in the wind.
"Don't let it turn!" Wei Lin called. "It'll fire those things!"
"Of course it will."
I shifted to the side as the beast twisted toward him. He struck again, this time catching it across the haunches, but the blow glanced off the dense hide. Still, it forced the creature to pivot back toward me.
The sabre was heavier than the dagger I was used to—slower in my hands, less forgiving. But I adjusted.
As it lunged, I ducked under a wide swipe of claws and drove my blade in just above the ribs. It shrieked and bucked, but I ripped the sabre free before it could throw its weight into me.
Wei Lin moved in with a tighter swing, aiming for the hind legs. The blade met resistance, but didn't stick. He shifted quickly, keeping his footing as the beast reared up.
The bristles quivered—then launched.
A spray of spines hissed through the air. I threw myself aside, one grazing my shoulder. Wei Lin dropped low, breath catching in his throat.
It came again—faster this time.
We split. Wei Lin drew its attention with quick footwork and short, defensive strikes. I circled behind, counting the steps.
Then I moved.
My sabre came down hard, slicing through the base of its neck. The blade lodged deep between its ridged spine and furred bristles.
The beast buckled, legs trembling.
Wei Lin stepped in from the side, slamming his blade through its exposed neck. The beast crumpled, wheezing once before falling still.
We stood over the corpse, catching our breath.
Wei Lin exhaled slowly, eyes on the fallen creature. "That wasn't what I pictured when I said I wanted to hunt."
I glanced at him. His grip was steady. His blade dripped with blood.
"You did fine," I said. "Next one might not be as polite."
He offered a tired grin. "Then let's make sure we're ready."
I looked down at the hedgebeast. Its bristles still rattled faintly.
Another fight.
Another step.
And this time, we'd both walked away whole.
The beast's corpse twitched once more, then stilled completely.
As the tension ebbed from my muscles, I felt it—that familiar tingle brushing against my skin, like warm ash drifting on a breeze.
Qi.
It shimmered faintly above the hedgebeast, invisible to the world, but unmistakable to me now. A ripple of gold, slow and steady, bleeding off the corpse like steam.
I let it come.
The energy sank into me with the same smooth pull as before.
Then silence. I waited but nothing came.
No chime. No message. No shift in awareness.
Frowning, I closed my eyes and reached for that familiar thread again, the spark inside me where the system lived.
Status
Name: Ethan Ward
Cultivation: Mortal – 2/10
Titles:
• Diligence's Chosen
• Otherworlder
Skills:
• Last Stand
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 15
Spirit: 13
Still the same.
I let the screen dissolve and nodded to myself, slow and thoughtful.
It had been too easy.
That had to be it. The beast hadn't pushed me. I wasn't bleeding, wasn't desperate. The fight had been clean. Almost controlled.
I glanced over at Wei Lin, who stood with his hands on his knees, breathing hard but grinning wide.
"Think that was it?" he asked. "Or should we start charging the ridge?"
I gave a dry huff of amusement.
He straightened and looked around. "We should harvest the parts before the scavengers catch wind."
I gave a slow nod, but my thoughts were still circling.
This was going to need more testing.
Chapter 18
I crouched beside the hedgebeast's corpse, catching my breath. My hands still trembled a little, though whether from the fight or the Qi, I couldn't say.
Wei Lin stepped around the body and drew his knife. "We should take what we can. Bristles are worth something if they're intact."
I nodded and set to work.
The thing was heavy, but not unmanageable. Wei Lin pointed out which parts were worth keeping—claws, tendons, scent glands, even a few blood sacs that could be traded to the herbalist if we didn't rupture them. The smell was worse than last time, and I did my best not to gag when we opened its gut.
Fifteen minutes later, we had a satchel of materials, some blood-slicked tools, and one less threat in the forest.
"Let's keep going. " I spoke, wiping my blade on the grass.
He nodded his head in agreement. "No sense wasting daylight. That one came fast. We'll see if anything else is prowling nearby."
I looked at him. His stance had settled again—loose, focused, like the fight had never happened. There was a small smear of dirt across his cheek, and his sabre hung comfortably at his side.
I gave a quiet nod. "Alright. I'll lead the way."
The ridge sloped downward, the trees growing denser the further we went. Light trickled through the branches in thin, flickering shafts. I scanned the underbrush out of habit now, trying to keep my footfalls soft and ears sharp.
We hunted for another hour that day, but nothing else showed itself.
A few snapped branches and some faint tracks in the mud—but the forest kept its distance. Even the birds were quiet.
I tried to keep positive but deep down I needed another fight. Something to give me more Qi and see if it would push me to the next mortal tier.
Wei Lin filled the silence with the occasional story. Once, about a woman who'd killed a sabresaw— a small cat, of sorts, with long sharp teeth protruding down its jaw— using nothing but fermented bean paste and a hollowed gourd. Another time, a hunter who claimed to have lived among a wolf pack for a season. His delivery made them hard to take seriously, but the way he grinned told me he didn't care. And I enjoyed the small shit chat he provided. It also gave me more of a view on how this world worked.
That night, we returned with little to show for it. A few scavenged herbs, some meat from the hedgebeast, and a long walk home. Still, Wei Lin seemed satisfied.
"It's not about the haul," he said, tossing his hat onto its peg by the door. "It's about stacking stones. One at a time." He finished, in all his wisdom.
I didn't agree.
⸻
Days passed like that.
We hunted when we could. Trained when we weren't too sore. Sold what we gathered—fangs, claws, sometimes meat, sometimes even bones if we found someone interested. The farm still took up our mornings but the routine was about as good as it got.
Wei Lin was good at bartering. The herbalist no longer glared at him when he walked in. The grocer started calling him "young master farmer," which he pretended to hate but secretly liked. Every time we came back from town, I noticed the small pile of wrapped coin pouches in the corner of the kitchen growing.
"Almost enough," he muttered one evening, carefully tucking the latest pouch beneath a floorboard.
"For the pill?" I asked.
He nodded. "Madam Shen says it's a clear-lung blend. Expensive. But the right dose should cut through the phlegm. Let her breathe easy again."
He didn't look at me as he said it. Just ran a hand over the wooden board and let it settle into place.
⸻
The nights were cooler now. Not quite cold, but enough to see your breath if you woke before dawn. I found myself sleeping deeper—less tossing, fewer dreams. Maybe my body was finally catching up to the pace.
I checked the system once during that stretch.
Still 2/10.
Still Spirit at 13. Even though we had fought multiple beasts.
⸻
On the fifth day, we found a set of boar tracks by the river. Wei Lin thought they looked fresh. We followed them for a while but lost the trail in a patch of thick roots. He blamed his bad luck and the mud covering the ground.
"You know," he said, brushing dirt from his pant leg, "if this keeps up, we might actually be able to buy something other than dried radish for once."
"Getting ambitious?"
He grinned. "Thinking about upgrading to salted fish."
We pushed west, following the creekbed. It had mostly dried up, just a winding scar in the ground now, half-choked with vines and fallen branches.
"This place used to flood during the monsoons," he said, brushing leaves aside with the tip of his sabre. "Now it just collects bones and bugs."
It also seemed to collect beasts.
We found one rooting around in the mud—short-legged, tusked, and mean-looking. This one had dark plates running along its spine and a twitching snout like it didn't know whether to dig or kill. It looked like a boar with armour.
I tightened my grip on my sabre. " Let's do this."
Wei Lin gave a sharp nod.
I didn't waste time.
I shifted my stance, sabre rising to guard. "You see that armor?"
Wei Lin's voice was tight beside me. "Yeah. I don't think we're cutting through the top."
"Then we gotta under."
The boar didn't wait.
It charged with surprising speed, a living battering ram aimed straight for my chest.
I dropped low and rolled to the side. Its tusks missed me by inches, the wind of its passing cold against my skin. I came up quick, slashing across its side but the blade bounced off with a jarring clang.
It kept going, hooves pounding the earth until it skidded, snorted, and wheeled back toward Wei Lin.
He held his ground.
"Come on, then," he shouted.
It barreled toward him. He stepped aside, just barely. His sabre lashed out. The blade scraped across one of the back plates, only leaving a small cut.
"Too shallow!" I called. "Aim lower!"
"Trying!" He yelled back.
The boar spun again, more agile than anything that heavy had a right to be. Its eyes locked on me this time—small, dark, and filled with mean intelligence.
I tightened my grip and stepped in. Let it come.
It charged. I didn't move until the last second. Then I shifted, pivoted with the rush, and drove the sabre upward into the soft crease behind its foreleg.
It howled. A deep, ugly sound that rumbled through the trees, and thrashed sideways. My blade tore free. Blood followed, thick and dark, painting the mud at our feet.
The beast turned, furious now, and snapped toward me. I didn't have time to get clear.
Wei Lin moved before I could call out.
He rushed in and slammed the flat of his blade into its snout. The beast jerked away from me and charged blindly forward, snorting and shaking its massive head.
I slipped slightly, from the wet ground. Before catching myself and tightening my grip on my now bloody sabre.
"Thanks," I said.
"You're welcome," he panted. Seemingly innocent but I could see the gleam in his eyes. He had saved me for once. I knew I wouldn't hear the end of it.
"Come on, let's get this big bastard." I said.
We circled it, one on each side. The boar's head tracked us, switching between me and him, flanks heaving, foam thick on its lips. It stomped a hoof, tossing up clumps of wet earth.
Wei Lin lunged in with a low swing, aiming for the hind leg. The blade bit in just above the joint, and the beast roared, swinging around.
I was already there.
I leapt, bringing the sabre down with everything I had—right into the wound I'd made earlier. The tip dug deep. I felt tendons give way as the blade kept sinking in.
The boar bucked and my body went flying.
I hit the ground hard, rolled through mud and dead leaves, and came up, only to see two Wei Lin yelling my name. I slapped the side of my head and blinked my eyes. One Wei Lin disappeared.
The boar charged me and once again Wei Lin helped by throwing himself in its path. His blade flashed once, just enough to make it flinch, to veer off.
It slammed into a tree behind him with enough force to shake loose a curtain of leaves.
I didn't waste the opening.
I forced myself upright. Pain pulsed in my head, but I ignored it.
"Draw it again!" I called.
Wei Lin nodded and charged, yelling his best war cry. The boar turned with a snarl, and I circled behind it, steps measured.
It lunged at him, fast and wild.
He ducked, sabre slashing again, this time hitting the back of its leg and drawing blood.
It shrieked.
I stepped in clean.
One strike. Straight to the base of the neck, just above the shoulder. The sabre punched through soft muscle, wedging deep between the armored plates. It flailed, but I held on, driving the blade deeper with both hands.
The beast jerked, groaned, then fell.
Its body hit the ground with a wet, final thud.
It twitched once.
Then nothing.
I staggered back, panting, hands trembling around the blood-slicked hilt. Wei Lin collapsed beside the corpse, mud smeared up his arms, breath coming fast.
"You good?" I asked.
He looked up at me, nodded, "You?"
"I've been worse." I smirked. "Good shit by the way."
He returned my smirk but didn't respond. Instead he pulled out his small skinning knife and moved closer to the now still boar.
We cleaned the kill in practiced silence. My hands worked while my thoughts didn't. Not until we finished and I straightened again did I feel it—that soft pull beneath my skin.
The Qi.
Warmth moved through my chest, through my limbs, until it settled just beneath the surface.
And then the system responded.
A low chime. A flicker of light behind my eyes.
Qi absorbed.
System Sync in Progress…
Stats increased
Strength: 10 → 11
Spirit: 13 → 14
Progress: Mortal 2/10 → 3/10
I let out a slow breath.
The change in Spirit was familiar—subtle, like something in me had sharpened. But Strength was different. More immediate. The small knife in my hand suddenly felt lighter.
I didn't say anything as the screen faded.
Wei Lin was still checking over the satchel, counting glands and wrapping claws in spare cloth. "Should be enough for a good trade," he said. "Another one or two like this and we're there."
"For the pill?"
He nodded.
We left the forest just before dusk. The wind had picked up by then, brushing cool air through the trees. The scent of earth, sweat and blood clung to me all the way home.
I could feel the path stretching ahead, longer and steeper than I'd thought. But something about that Qi was addictive. Feeling it course into my body felt like the perfect high. I already wanted more. And I wasn't so sure if that was a good thing. But if it would make me stronger and give me a chance at getting home, I won't stop for anything.
Chapter 19
We were back in Fallen Mist.
Wei Lin had once again bartered away our kill—apparently, the beast was called an Armour Boar. Fitting, if a little on the nose. There must've been some translation oddity in the name.
I still let him handle the trade. Bartering wasn't something I understood yet. I was used to set prices and no negotiations. It didn't help that this world's currency felt like stepping back in time. There were no paper notes or credit chips—just coin. Three types, as far as I could tell: copper jian, silver li, and gold yuan. Ten jian made a li. Ten li made a yuan. A single copper seemed enough to feed someone for a day. Wei Lin would used a silver to buy our food for a week and a gold? Well I wasn't sure. We hadn't received any. Yet.
Over the couple of weeks I'd known Wei Lin, I'd come to trust him. He'd saved my life more than once now, and that kind of trust was hard-earned. Leaving him to manage our coin wasn't a problem—not when I was still figuring out how everything worked at least.
"—and then, the crazy bastard stands back up like getting thrown five meters into a tree meant nothing!" Wei Lin's voice carried over the quiet hum of the tavern.
We were sitting in The Crooked Reed, Fallen Mist's local and only tavern. It had low tables, smoky lanterns, lighting the room and a haze of old wood and wine in the air. I quite liked it.
Wei Lin was weaving a tale to two women seated across from us—both in work robes, their hair tied back, cheeks flushed from drink. One of them leaned in, clearly entertained.
"But you should've seen his face," Wei Lin grinned, tapping his gourd against the table. "He was pale as a ghost. Paler than usual, if you can believe it!"
He took a long swig and set the gourd down with a satisfied sigh.
I let him have his fun.
It wasn't exactly how things had happened. But it was close enough.
Wei Lin's gourd hit the table again, this time with a little more weight behind it. The two women across from us laughed, half-hiding their smiles behind the sleeves of their robes. They were field workers, by the look of their hands. One had a short bob of dark hair, the other wore earrings carved from riverstone—small, polished and chipped at the edges, catching the firelight just right as she brushed her longer dark hair behind her ear.
"I'm telling you," Wei Lin said, grinning wide, "the thing had tusks longer than your arm and at least as thick as my thigh. Its eyes glowed red like it had eaten a fire spirit. And when it charged, the ground shook so hard I swear I felt my bones rattle."
He imitated the quake by jostling the table. Their laughter spilled out louder this time, unguarded.
"Then what happened?" one of them asked, already knowing she'd be disappointed if the answer wasn't dramatic enough.
Wei Lin leaned forward, dropping his voice to a near-whisper. "I stepped forward. Blade in hand. One breath in. One out. And then—I leapt clean over it."
"No!"
"I did!" he insisted, placing a hand over his chest like he was swearing an oath. "It rushed right under me, tusks missing by this much." He held two fingers apart, far too wide to be believable. "And as it passed, I twisted midair—like this—" he mimed a clumsy spin that almost knocked his gourd over, "and drove my sabre right into its neck."
The second girl gasped like she'd never heard anything more exciting.
I leaned back, nursing the cup in my hands. The wine was sharp and earthy, poured from a clay jug the size of my head. It left a dry sting on the tongue and a slow warmth in my chest. It wasn't great, but better than the pond water I'd gotten used to. And it was nice to unwind.
A few other tables were filled—mostly laborers and old men playing tile games in the corner. Smoke curled from a brazier near the bar, carrying the scent of roasted nuts and sweet root. The innkeeper, an older man with a limp and the eyes of someone who had seen a few too many winters, moved between tables in slow circles, refilling cups.
Outside, I could hear the wind rustling the eaves and feel the slight shake of the building as it got blown around. It must have been windy out there.
Wei Lin was still going, which wasn't too surprising. He had a way with words I never would've expected when I first met him.
"And that wasn't even the worst of it. Two days later, another one shows up. This one twice the size. Plates thick as mountain stone. I swear to the heavens, it looked me right in the eye and smiled."
"Spirits above…" one of the women whispered, wide-eyed.
I took another sip, listening. What rubbish was he talking?
"That's the thing about beasts," he went on. "They're not just wild animals. Qi changes them. Makes them smarter, stronger." He clenched his fists. "They're good for nothing. Only destruction. They ravage through our villages, killing everything and anything. And we can't even eat their meat. It's bullshit."
The girls didn't respond right away. They were listening now. Not laughing. Just watching him, with a look of knowing in their eyes.
Wei Lin smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "But don't worry." He pointed at me. "Fang Wu and I will kill them all." He took another drink. "Every last one." He whispered it, but I just caught it.
I watched Wei Lin as he took another sip. He looked too serious—until his slightly-too-large nose hit the gourd and made some wine spill onto his chest.
Me and the two girls let out a chuckle at that.
Eventually, the conversation turned again. The short-haired girl with freckles across her nose—Lian Mei—asked about rice prices, about the merchant from Lianzhou, which I'd learned was the closest city, who came once a month with salted fish and dried fruit, as well as any other necessities. Wei Lin played along, charming as ever, back to his relaxed self.
I watched the firelight flicker in his eyes and wondered how much of that story he believed. Obviously, he had some demons of his own. And to be honest, I'd be more than happy to help him out.
As long as the Qi kept flowing.
The tavern doors burst open with a crack loud enough to silence the room and break me out of my thoughts. Cold air howled through the gap, carrying leaves, dust, and the sharp bite of cold.
Two men stumbled in.
One of them could barely walk—he was being half-dragged by the other. His head hung low, chin tucked to his chest, hair matted to his face in blood-soaked strands. His chest was torn open, deep claw marks slicing through his robes. Red stained the cloth from neck to belt. The man's face was twisted in pain, every step dragging a groan from between clenched teeth.
The one supporting him looked around the room in panic. "Is Master Kai in here?" he shouted. "Please—we need help!"
Chairs scraped back. Cups stopped mid-air. The tavern's mood, just moments ago warm and filled with laughter, froze.
In the corner, seated at a worn board game table, an older man looked up. White hair tied back into a neat topknot. His layered robes were the color of pine smoke, and his lined face took in the room with calm detachment.
I'd heard the name in passing. Wei Lin had mentioned him once, calling him the only person in town who knew anything beyond stuffing herbs into a wound and hoping for the best. He often visited the farm to check on Wei Lin's mother, though I had never seen him. Or her for that matter.
Master Kai rose without a word, placing his game piece down gently before striding across the room with a speed that didn't match his age. The other patrons moved instinctively, parting like water before a boat. Even the innkeeper paused mid-step.
"Lay him down," Master Kai said, voice calm and clipped. "Table. Now."
The uninjured man half-carried, half-hoisted his companion onto the nearest table. A dull thunk followed, and the wounded man cried out in raw pain.
Master Kai's hands moved fast. He tore the robe open without ceremony and bent low to examine the damage.
"Spirits," Lian Rui—the sister with long dark hair and deep forest green eyes—muttered from behind me.
The gashes were deep. A swipe across the chest that had torn through flesh and cracked bone. It looked like his chest had gone through a blender.
Master Kai didn't flinch. Unlike the rest of the room—including me. "Wei Lin," he called over his shoulder.
Wei Lin had already started moving the moment the name was spoken. "Here!"
"My kit. It's under the counter, back at my store. Green lacquered box. Bring it. Now. And be quick."
Wei Lin didn't waste a second. He bolted toward the door, ripping it back open and vanishing down the street.
Master Kai pressed a hand to the injured man's neck, checking his pulse. Then he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small clay vial. He popped the cork and poured a few drops of clear liquid into the man's mouth.
The wounded hunter coughed weakly. "Don't—don't waste your medicine. Save it. I—I'm done."
"Shut up," Master Kai replied flatly. "Talk only if it helps me keep you alive. And you're being dramatic. You'll live."
I stepped closer, unable to help myself. The tavern had shifted. Lian Mei and Lian Rui had gone quiet. The laughter from earlier now felt like it had happened in another life.
The uninjured man—tall, lean, still dusted with forest mud—turned to the room. "We were hunting," he said hoarsely. "South trail. Past the Whispering Ridge. We were tracking a boar."
He paused. "We never found it."
"What happened?" asked one of the older men Master Kai had been playing the board game with.
The hunter shook his head. "They came out of nowhere. Not just one. Five. Maybe six. More than I've seen together in years."
The tavern fell dead silent.
"It was chaos," he continued. "They were mad. Foaming at the mouth. No reason or pattern. Just pure aggression."
Master Kai narrowed his eyes. "Spit it out, Wu Lee. What attacked?"
"Dusk Creepers."
My stomach twisted.
I remembered the striped cat. The one that had almost killed me. I'd fought one, barely survived. I couldn't imagine six of them at once.
The hunter's jaw tightened. "We ran. Thought we'd lost them. Then one of them got Lan Hui. I fought it off. But it was too late."
He gestured to the man bleeding out on the table.
"I carried him as far as I could. We need help."
"We're not equipped for this," someone muttered in the back.
"The sect should be warned."
"What sect?" another voice snapped. "They barely send anyone here as it is."
Master Kai ignored them. He turned as Wei Lin burst back in, face pale, holding the lacquered box.
"You done this before?" Master Kai asked, taking the kit.
Wei Lin hesitated and glanced at me. I thought I caught a sheepish expression but I must have been imagining. "Once."
I narrowed my eyes at him and he had the shame to look away.
"That's enough. Hold the wound closed."
Wei Lin stepped in without hesitation. His hands were steady despite the blood. I watched as he pressed the skin together, knuckles tight. Master Kai began stitching, fast and precise. The thread was black, maybe silk. Each pull of the needle made the wounded man twitch, but he didn't lose consciousness.
"How long ago?" Master Kai asked.
"An hour," the hunter said. "Maybe less."
The silence stretched.
Eventually, Master Kai tied off the last stitch, poured something over the wound, and wrapped the chest in clean white bandages.
"He'll live," Master Kai said. "If no infection sets in. If his spirit holds." He looked up. "But that forest isn't safe anymore."
My stomach was still tight.
The hunter caught his breath and scanned the room. "You need to be careful. All of you. Something's happening out there. I don't know what, but…" His voice cracked. "We've hunted that ridge for years. Nothing like this has happened since—"
Master Kai cut him off with a look. "Then we take it seriously."
He turned to the room. "Get the word out. No foraging. No solo trips. No kids near the treeline."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
Everyone was listening.
Everyone understood.
Wei Lin stepped back from the table, hands still covered in blood. He looked at me.
And I looked back. We would talk about this. But not tonight.
I grabbed my gourd and took another swig.
Tonight I needed to unwind.